


pushing down on me

by emblems



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Top!Yuuri, bottom!Victor, dickstepping, honestly that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emblems/pseuds/emblems
Summary: One thing Yuuri remembers now, taking in Victor’s frantic expression, the way he’s biting his lip, the rose hue coloring his cheeks—
  
    “One partner was very into… well, let’s just say he took the expression ‘step on me’ very much to heart.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from exactly what you think it is
> 
> (this is literally all abbi's fault) (also this isn't edited bc if i look at it any longer i'll never post it so)

How they got themselves here, Yuuri isn’t really sure, but far be it from him to ask too many questions, so he doesn’t ask.

He grinds his the heel of his hand against Victor, pressing earnestly. Victor’s head tips back, and Yuuri eyes the column of his neck as it arches against the pillow. Victor’s throat, pale and straining, is perfectly exposed, and Yuuri feels a thrill go down his spine that’s rooted in something primal.

“You like this?” he asks, breathy, keeping pressure on Victor’s cock.

The breathy groan he gets is arguably answer enough, but Victor surprises him by managing to get out a single, broken: “ _Yes._ ” 

Yuuri licks his lips. “Tell me what you need, Victor.” 

He remembers, as if it were a hazy dream now, Victor making an offhanded comments on what he liked, things he’d done with previous lovers—all, of course, to get deliberately under Yuuri’s skin and into Yuuri’s pants.

(When it comes to this, Victor under him, Victor looking at him like this, like Yuuri could unmake him—yeah, Yuuri is humble enough to admit he’s not above being baited.)

One thing he remembers now, taking in Victor’s frantic expression, the way he’s biting his lip, the rose hue coloring his cheeks—

“ _One partner was very into… well, let’s just say he took the expression ‘step on me’ very much to heart.”_

He wants to hear Victor say it, but he also knows that Victor isn’t likely going to be forming any coherent sentences anytime soon, so he leaves it for another day and decides to just follow his gut, and trust that he knows what Victor needs.

(He usually does—Victor’s told him so.)

So Yuuri pulls away—removes his hand and puts some distance between them. He shifts, pulling his right leg up so his foot rests next to Victor’s hip, and leaning on his left knee as a measure of support. 

Victor looks up at him, and Yuuri takes a moment to be grateful for two things:

One, that they’re doing this in Victor’s room, where the futons sit on the ground, instead of Yuuri’s room where they’d be doing this on a raised bed.

Two: Victor lies underneath him, clothes long since discarded, hair mussed, lips bitten red and swollen. The picture of elegance come undone, a few spare threads plucked and pulled until the tapestry came apart. 

The usually unflappable Victor Nifikorov, falling to pieces under his hands. Yuuri strokes the side of his face and exults in the way Victor presses into the touch, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. 

He pauses. “You okay?” he asks. 

Victor nods. “Please, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri nods, and when he moves this time it’s to gently lift his foot until it presses against Victor’s cock.

This time, when Victor moans, it’s full-throated and loud, and Yuuri can practically feel it reverberating up his spine.

“Good?” he asks, trying (failing) not to sound too hoarse.

“Amazing,” Victor affirms. “C’mon, Yuuri, don’t be shy, I know you’re not shy—”

Yuuri applies more pressure and Victor loses his next words to a gasp. He starts to move, hips pressing up into Yuuri’s weight, and Yuuri sets out a hand to steady himself.

“Feel so good,” Victor says. “Always so good to me, Yuuri.” 

Yuuri bites his lip at the sound of Victor’s voice: desperate but pleased, the epitome of gratification. 

“You’ve done this before?” he asks, watching Victor rock underneath him. When Victor doesn’t immediately answer, he slides his foot up, up, alleviating the pressure until he reaches the tip of Victor’s cock, where he presses down oh-so-slightly to elicit the response he’s looking for.

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Victor breathes. “ _Yes._ ” 

Heat spreads down Yuuri’s neck and blooms in his chest at the _need_ coloring Victor’s voice.

He swallows and tries not to blush too much as he mutters: “So dirty, Victor.”

Victor cracks his eyes open long enough to meet Yuuri’s gaze, sending a thrill running liquid hot down his spine. “You love it.”

Looking at Victor’s blown pupils, dark with lust, Yuuri can’t contest that. He shifts his foot back down to the base of Victor’s cock and presses down, and Victor lets out a sigh of sheer contentment.

Incredible, is the word that comes to mind.

Incredible and _his_.

Victor’s entire face is tinged a pleasant red; Yuuri feels his body grow somehow warmer, knowing what this is doing to Victor. 

If Victor hadn’t asked for it, Yuuri would be worried that this is too much, that he’s pushing too far. 

But Victor _had_ asked for it, so he tilts his head and smiles. “You can handle a little more, right?” He gives Victor just a little more pressure and watches, enraptured, as Victor’s head tips back, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. 

He catches only part of the barely-there, breathless way Victor says his name— _Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri—_

Victor quickens his pace, chasing his climax, and Yuuri lets himself watch, lets himself get caught up in the way Victor’s breath hitches and his hips stutter, watching Victor spiral down, down.

Yuuri absorbs it all greedily, unable to pull his eyes away from Victor, unable to believe that even after all this time Victor can show him something new and leave him reeling.

“So beautiful, he murmurs, and he gets a choked moan in response.

He leans down as much as he can without increasing the pressure, careful not to lean on his own leg, and ignores the burn building up in his left knee. He can see tears at the corners of Victor’s eyes, tracking down the side of his face even though his eyes are squeezed shut.

He’s very close, if the way he’s gripping the sheets are any indication, and Yuuri feels his own hunger mount and grow. 

“Come on, Victor,” he whispers. “Come on.” 

“ _Yuuri—_ ”

Victor climaxes like a wave breaking on the shore: at first all at once, going rigid, and then gradually, steadily, growing more malleable until he’s boneless underneath him. Yuuri moves his foot away and draws back, sitting on his haunches to observe.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

Victor’s breath begins to even out, chest rising and falling with something that’s approaching regularity. “I’m going to need a moment.”

Yuuri feels concern rise sharp and cold in his throat. “Victor—”

“I’m fine,” Victor assures, still lying flat on his back to speak in general direction of the ceiling. “More than fine. I’d go as far to say I’m feeling spectacular.”

Yuuri flushes. “ _Oh_.” 

Victor finally pushes himself up, resting on his elbows, and Yuuri nearly falls over at the image he makes: Victor’s silver hair resembles a misshapen storm cloud, tufts sticking up in every direction and loose strands falling around his face, and his cheeks are still red. 

Looking further down, Yuuri can see the come pooling in the ‘v’ of Victor’s hips, and he swallows.

 _I did that_ , he thinks, feeling not a small amount of pride burgeoning in his chest.

“ _Oh_ ,” Victor repeats, drawing Yuuri’s eyes back up, to Victor’s wrecked face. He sits up fully now, so they’re mere breaths apart, and at this point Yuuri feels more than he sees Victor’s grin. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

Victor doesn’t give him a chance to reply, instead closing the distance between them to kiss him. Yuuri responds happily, bringing a hand up to the nape of Victor’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair. 

Just as Yuuri is about to press his tongue against the seam of Victor’s lips, Victor pulls away, and Yuuri half-follows him, pushing forward until he realizes what’s happened.

He barely gets out a “hm?” before Victor is pushing him back. Suddenly he’s the one looking up at the ceiling, enjoying the sensation of Victor’s lips and tongue on his neck, his collarbone, all the way down his chest until Victor stops, pressing his cheek against Yuuri’s hip to look up at him.

The sight nearly does Yuuri in, the still freshly-fucked expression sending his mind spinning. “What do you have in mind?” he chokes out.

Victor presses a kiss to Yuuri’s hip—loving, worshipful—and says against the skin: “Just returning the favor.”

And, well, Yuuri is hardly going to protest _that_.

**Author's Note:**

> victor gives yuuri the best head of his life, in case you're wondering
> 
> (this is my first time writing this particular kink pls be kind)
> 
> (also come yell with me abt ep 7 [on twitter](http://twitter.com/otayuris))


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